SextersAnondotCom
by unforth
Summary: Castiel Novak is successful businessman, head of his division at Sandover Industries, reliable and relied upon by his higher ups. The one thing he wants and doesn't have is the one thing he cannot allow himself: a relationship. He can't trust himself with other people, he gets too involved, puts the relationship before *anything*. Rather than risk it, he turns to SextersAnondotcom.
1. Chapter 1

It's time for Writing Prompt Wednesday! This story is from the theme for two weeks ago - I'm just a wee bit behind – but we'll be back on schedule tomorrow! Anyway, the theme was "AUs related to texting."

What is Writing Prompt Wednesday?

Writing Prompt Wednesday is a feature I run on my Tumblr. Followers, readers and friends suggest themes for AUs, and I come up with a list of prompts based on the suggested them. Then, based on those prompts, anyone who wants to join in writes up a short story (or a long story, I guess) and posts it to Tumblr (or AO3, or , or wherever) and tags it Writing Prompt Wednesday!

You can read more about Writing Prompt Wednesday, and read this week's entries, on my tumblr, username unforth-ninawaters

This week, I chose this prompt:

 _SextersAnondotcom_ is _exactly what it sounds like - a site that hooks up two anonymous people who want to trade sexts with each other - completely at random, or set within certain parameters (age, gender, specific kink, etc.) at the discretion of the people signing up…I've got some things I've really wanted to try, no outlet for trying them, so I put them all in, and you're the person I got paired with._

Tags/Warnings (MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS):

Relationship:Castiel/Dean Winchester

Characters: Castiel;Dean Winchester; Joshua; Alfie; Anna Milton; Zachariah

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Top Castiel; Bottom Dean; Topping from the Bottom; Dom/sub; Sub Castiel; Dom Dean; Businessman Castiel; Photographer Dean; Sexting; Sex Toys; Anonymous Sex; Public Sex; Orgasm Delay/Denial; Masturbation

* * *

 _It's all anonymous…no one will ever know I did this unless I tell them…I cannot conceive of a single reason I would ever admit this to anyone…_

Taking a fortifying breath, Castiel hit "submit" to finalize the creation of his new account on SextersAnondotCom. There had been little enough to fill out, only some general information about himself – his gender, his age, a credit card number they guaranteed would not be charged unless he signed up for premium services, and of course his cell phone number. Castiel had added a second phone to his plan specifically to indulge his curiosity as regarded exchanging sexual text messages with a stranger. It was crazy, he knew, and the extra phone cost $25 a month, but he'd resisted as long as could. Castiel had a vivid imagination and he'd always found it easy to transition from reading about a sexual act to picturing the act being done on his body to actually feeling as if he were being touched. Merely the thought of getting sensual messages was enough to harden him. His life was so busy, his job kept him on the go so constantly, that it had been impossible to forge a regular relationship. Further, experience had taught him that the type of relationship he wanted in real life was dangerously unhealthy for him to pursue and had a detrimental effect on his professional life.

SextersAnondotcom didn't offer real relationships; that was the whole point. All Castiel wanted was to find someone with whom he got along, an adult who shared his interests it'd help him through the loneliest nights. The few times he'd tried cybersex, he'd enjoyed it, but he'd struggled to find partners he felt safe with, safe forums, and the utter anonymity made him uncomfortable. He didn't know anything about those he'd cybered with, and it made him uncomfortable. Text messages were low pressure, SextersAnondotcom had profiles so he could at least read made-up stories about his potential liaisons, and it would be easy to coordinate times to get together. When Castiel had heard about the website, he knew he had to give it a try.

A screen popped up congratulating him on completing his registration and explained that he had to respond to a text on his phone to confirm that it was a real number. Before he'd finished reading, his phone chirped.

 _(888) 555-7122 (7:14 PM)_ : Thank you for registering at SextersAnondotcom, your anonymous sexting matchmaking service! To confirm your registration, please text back 100. If you did not sign up for this service, please text back 200. For other inquiries, please text back 300 and a customer service representative will contact you.

 _Castiel (7:14 PM)_ : 100

 _(888) 555-7122 (7:15 PM)_ : Your account, Member ID 011444716535 is now confirmed. Thank you!

Refreshing his browser window launched a new congratulatory screen with a series of links to create a profile, answer questions about his sexual preferences, upload pictures if desired, take pointless quizzes, or read other member profiles. Castiel spent the evening perfecting his profile and filling in his preferences: an older match, someone mature and employed, ideally male, who shared his interests, as demonstrated by the ludicrous number of personal questions he answered about his sexual history and desires. He kept his self-description intentionally vague, indicating that he was a business man, had a high-pressure job, and enjoyed reading and art in his spare time. He uploaded a picture of himself, too, showing his scruffy chin, toned chest and abs, flat stomach, and a teasing glimpse of dark pubic hair. Thanks to the fuzzy inadequacy of cell phone cameras, the flaws were obscured: his developing wrinkles, his scars, the few scraggly long dark hairs he'd not had a chance to shave.

From time to time, he'd check the quality of his matches. Before he'd started his profile, the suggested partners had been useless, fake pictures and fake personalities with whom he had nothing in common, but the longer he worked, the better the results became. It was nearly midnight before he stopped, resolving that the next evening, he'd start looking through those he'd been matched with. He longed to start right away, but he had a 7 AM flight, a noon business meeting, and an important late-afternoon lunch; he needed his wits about him to face the day ahead. He needed his wits about him _every_ day, which was why he was turning to the anonymous service. Normal relationships, or at least what passed as a normal relationship for him, interfered too much.

With one thing and another, Castiel wasn't able to log on again for three days. By the time he finally did he ached to see how things were going. Theoretically, he could have browsed from his phone. Their app was top-rated and one of their selling points, since their entire premise was geared towards a mobile platform. Once he was more comfortable, perhaps he'd switch to the app, but for now he had a crap data plan and he worried that he couldn't delete the app browser history as completely as he could obscure his browsing history. Wondering if anyone had outreached to him, if anyone would be interested in a kinky bisexual in his late thirties, Castiel active his internet protections to ensure that even should someone get their hands on his laptop, they'd never know what he was up to, turned on incognito mode, and went to SextersAnondotcom.

He had 12 new messages.

Castiel heaved a sigh of relief. He'd not known what to expect. Having messages didn't mean he had completed his search for the perfect sexting partner, but it was nice to feel desired and suggested that there were people on the site who shared his preferences.

Reading through the messages took time. Deciding what to do about them took longer. The majority he dismissed immediately. It was easy to tell from the way the profiles were written, the things they said to him, their entire approach, that they knew absolutely nothing about men like him and primarily sought to get their kicks without worrying about the consequences. That didn't interest Castiel. He'd done enough of that when he was young and foolish and he'd faced the consequences. As he'd grown older he'd learned safer, saner ways to pursue his interests, and he intended to apply his hard-learned lessons to an anonymous text relationship, same as he would have were he meeting with someone in person. After long consideration, he decided not to reply to his most ignorant petitioners. There was no point in engaging with conversation with those he'd rejected. That lesson was reiterated as unsolicited chats popped up on his monitor. Apparently, while he was online other users could message him. Each was virtually the same and identically offensive, people too immature to engage in the niceties asking if he wanted to have sex. Disgusted, he added them to a list of users to permanently ignore. At least SextersAnondotcom gave users the resources to deal with the obnoxious. Having learned of the "ignore" function, he added the rude messagers to the list. That way, he'd never have to deal with them again. When he was done, he was left with three messages that demonstrated potential. Considering each in turn, Castiel decided to reply to two of them.

The first user, SandyBlueEyes100, was considerably older than Castiel and didn't sound like a perfect match. He self-identified as a top, if not in such blunt terms, and Castiel also far preferred to be on top, or, at least, he far preferred to be the one doing the inserting rather than the one being inserted into. However, in other regards SandyBlueEyes100 had potential. Based on his profile and his erudite letter, he was domineering, professional, intelligent and unashamed. No one would lie about being over 60 on a webpage like SextersAnondotcom. Or, Castiel supposed, if being that much older was a lie it was likely a kink, the person wanted to feel older than their partner, and Castiel was willing to play along with that. He typed a considered reply, indicating his interest, asking questions about what specifically SandyBlueEyes sought from a text relationship with Castiel, and moved on to the second match he thought had potential.

The man went by the name Metallicar67, and while his profile description had a carefreeness to it, to Castiel's savvy eye that casual attitude overlay an iron will and a firm hand. Metallicar talked the talk of the scene well, too, and his approach to Castiel in private had been sensible and cogent, asking Castiel about his past experience, his limits, suggesting they might be compatible but that they should start by talking more. Reading Metallicar's words caught Castiel's interest, but it wasn't what excited him most. A shiver went down Castiel's spine as he surveyed Metallicar67's user photographs. The album description indicated that the contents were a portfolio of Metallicar67's work. Every photo was carefully cropped and depicted different men in various levels of undress arrayed in an impressive selection of bondage/domination gear. Ropes, ball gags, chains, spreader bars, chastity devices, cock rings, and more, some things Castiel didn't recognize, were used to obviously devastating effects. The shots appeared to have been taken mid-scene, judging by the tension in the men's bodies and the moisture gleaming on their skin. Not only was Metallicar67 a fine photographer, he was also an expert in BDSM. Castiel had experienced enough bad kink to recognize safe practice when he saw it. Entranced, he stared at a photograph of a man, hands bound by ropes that disappeared under the mattress, cock held upright by a ring, legs lifted and spread and parted by expertly placed bars, a black plug sticking from his hole, torso dotted with splashed of hot wax and crimson pearls of blood.

Castiel didn't care what Metallicar67 looked like, didn't care how old or young he was, didn't care what his profession was; everything he needed to know was in that photograph. The man who could do that to another man was one that Castiel craved like an addict longed for their next fix. The longer he stared, the more aroused he grew. Blood pulsed in his ears and rushed through his veins and caused his burgeoning erection to throb against his boxer-briefs. Licking his lips, Castiel turned away with difficult, rose, and assiduously removed his suit, hanging it neatly in the closer. He lay his shirt and tie out on the bed so he could iron them in the morning and bundled his undershirt, socks and underwear into the small bag he carried for laundry. As he worked with slow, deliberate, care his arousal grew, demanding attention. Castiel rigorously controlled his response, restrained himself from reaching for his aching cock or touching his tingling skin, and through the very act of self-control his desire grew, his anticipation curled hot. He loved being in control of himself. He loved the moment when that control finally cracked. But his absolute favorite was when he was with someone who told him _he was allowed_ to stop being in control, that he'd _earned_ the right to unbridle his self-restraint.

Sitting before his computer once again, Castiel scrolled through Metallicar67's portfolio, the images firing his imagination. Some where things he'd done – wax and blood play, gags and spread bars. Others were new to him. The most intriguing, the most tempting, were the shots of men complexly tied up, beautiful men made more beautiful by the arrangement of knots and lengths draped over their bodies. Staring at one photograph, a close up of a man's back, his arms knotted and bound in a way that mirrored the vertebrae of his spine, Castiel allowed his mind to drift, allowed his thoughts to encompass how it would feel to be tied up by someone he trusted, teased and pampered and taunted until he was ready to beg yet keeping absolutely silent until he was given permission to articulate, keeping utterly still unless permitted to move. His phantom lover moved and posed Castiel's body as he would to the accompaniment of the flash of a light bulb and the clatter of a shutter. Sometimes, he'd be left that way for hours only to be finally untied and sent home. Other times…

…Castiel wrapped a hand around his leaking cock. So lost was he in his fantasy that it felt like someone else's finger teased around his head, someone else's nail flicked at his slit, someone else's grip wrapped gently around his length and stroked it. Imagined words of praise were breathed into his ear, _such a good boy, Castiel, you've been so obedient. Obedient boys earn their rewards. Are you going to sing for me, Castiel?_ With that invitation, Castiel let a soft groan free as he gently pumped up and down, using his other hand to switch to the first image that had captivated him. The remembered burning sting of wax singeing his flesh and soothing him as it cooled left him tingling with the desire to once again feel the teasing flick of a lover's nail picking the flakes from his skin. It had been a long time since he'd dared indulge in anything even so mild as that, a long time since he'd been with anyone else.

"Please…oh, please…" Castiel mumbled. Losing himself, Castiel's vision filled a beautiful man tending negligently to Castiel's cock, snapping pictures of Castiel's face as he slipped towards rapture, using the camera as a shield, a distancing tactic, a sign of mock disinterest, a way to keep Castiel from making eye contact. " _Please_ , let me fill you, let me be inside you…I've been so good…it's been…it's been…it's been _forever_ …"The sound of his own voice reverberating through his head, Castiel tightened his grip, pulsed harder and more firmly, imagined how helpless he'd be with his arms tied back, how buzzed he'd be on the sharp, brief pain of each drop of wax, how much he craved feeling a tight, prepped ass clenching around his cock. The photographer could make him feel that way, could make him feel enthralled yet needed, could decide for him when he'd been good enough to earn release and when his begging was for nothing. His hips stuttered against his hand – _bad, Castiel, very naughty, you never used to lose control like that, I'll have to punish you_ – and with the promise of consequences firing his blood, Castiel moaned and spilled over his hand, panting.

 _If Metallicar's text messages are half as arousing as his photography, we're going to get along very well_.

Buzzed on his release, Castiel dazedly typed a reply to Metallicar, far more intimate and suggestive than the one he'd sent to SandyBlueEyes, outlining his experience, specifying his preferences beyond what was obvious from his profile, and opening the door to further kink negotiation should the other man prove interested. A few moments after hitting send, he glanced again at his own profile. In contrast to the album of photographs he'd scrolled through, what little he'd posted seemed hopelessly inadequate. What if Metallicar decided he wasn't interested after all? Explicit photographs had never been a part of Castiel's sex life before, and thus he only had a couple shot of himself during past encounters, both depicting him unrecognizably debauched. They weren't high quality: the lighting was poor, the angles not ideal, but they would give Metallicar an idea of what Castiel was capable of. Downloading a simple photo editor, Castiel cropped the shots so that he wouldn't be identifiable. As he uploaded them to SextersAnon, he lamented that he couldn't share the one video he had. There was no way to make it anonymous within his limited video editing capabilities. The photographs would have to be enough. Hoping for the best, he sent his reply and headed to bed.

The temptation to check his messages the next morning proved irresistible. There were five: four new people and an insipid reply from SandyBlueEyes. Castiel wished he'd read Metallicar's message and profile before answering the first man, it'd have saved him trouble. Theoretically, he supposed he could initiate anonymous intimacy with both men, but it seems like a lot of work and besides, Castiel had never been interested in having multiple partners. He'd preferred to be owned, completely and utterly, by one person and one person alone. Once he gave himself over, he'd do anything for that his dom, anything they asked, anything they suggested they wanted, no matter the cost to himself. Maybe dallying with two people would be better, maybe it would prevent Castiel from growing so dangerously obsessed. Either way, it hardly mattered. Metallicar hadn't written him and Castiel was surprised by how disappointed he felt. Convincing himself to send at least a passable reply to SandyBlueEyes, Castiel reminded himself that most interactions on the website would end in disappointment and he only needed one to end successfully. He'd have preferred Metallicar to SandyBlueEyes, might yet prefer a third person to either of them, but regardless it was in his best interest to maintain contact with anyone with potential until someone actually came through.

A reply came from Metallicar67 moments before Castiel logged off. Heart pounding, he read it through, read it through again, tried not to read too much into each perfect phrase. Having a crush on someone he'd never seen, much less met, was a new experience for Castiel, but the symptoms were unmistakable. Metallicar was interested, he thought Castiel's photographs were a crime because the photographer hadn't been able to do justice to the beauty of Castiel's submission, and he wanted them to each complete kink checklists through an independent website so they could compare notes on their interests. The message included a link to an off-site album with more of his work. It was all Castiel could do not to click through immediately. He wanted to drink up every delicious image but his meetings for the day began in less than an hour and he didn't want to be rushed when he looked at Metallicar's work. Deliberately closing the message, Castiel navigated to Metallicar's profile and clicked the "thumbs up" button, selected five out of five stars. If Metallicar had rated him the same, they'd each receive an e-mail containing the other's cell number.

His phone pinged, telling him he had a new e-mail. Checking it, heart pounding, Castiel's lied to himself that it must be work related, must be from his secretary, must be anything other than…he opened his inbox to the message from SextersAnon informing him that Metallicar's number was (785) 555 – 8967. He took a minute to message SandyBlueEyes and indicate that he was no longer interested.

Castiel's day could not end fast enough. Every minute of the meeting dragged. As director of corporate sales for Sandover Industries, Castiel was always on the go, traveling all over the world, and he often had high stakes meetings where he had to be cool, collected, and in control. This trip was not like that. Castiel was in to Dallas for a week to attend the annual board of directors meeting. He had exactly one presentation to give – a status report on his division which he'd finished writing and refining a week before – and other than that his job was to look professional while occupying an office chair and keeping his mouth shut. Inactivity was his ultimate weakness. Compounded by his desire to complete the kink survey and write back to Metallicar, he was a jittery mess by lunch. Fortunately, there was nothing weird about a corporate executive pulling out his cell phone at the first convenient moment, especially when many present maintained a façade of attentiveness by not checking their e-mail during the meetings. Hardly anyone spoke during their fancy catered lunch, all frantically checking on work, tapping out replies, making calls. Except Castiel. Castiel looked like all the others, but instead he downloaded and installed the SextersAnon app and clicked the link Metallicar had sent him. It took him the entire hour break to complete the survey, indicating if he was green light, yellow light or red light for a list of over a hundred kinks, adding notes and clarification when necessary. By the time he was finished he was frustrated and excited. There were so many enticing options on that list but he didn't have time to follow up by writing back to Metallicar, nor did he have time to deal with how aroused he'd become while considering the potential suggested by the kink survey.

It was 7 that night before Castiel escaped the board room. Too worked up to care about dinner, he went straight to his room. In addition to the message he hadn't answered yet, Castiel had a second note from Metallicar with a link to their survey analysis which would show where they were compatible. Curious, Castiel went to the website that Metallicar had used for the surveys and confirmed that it was completely independent and that it was impossible for Metallicar to have seen Castiel's results, just as it was impossible for Castiel to see Metallicar's. If the analysis showed that they had kinks in common, it was genuine: Metallicar couldn't have geared his answers to match Castiel's.

Breathless with optimism and expectation, Castiel clicked on the link. The number 95% was written in bright green at the top of the page, a brief description below congratulated him that it was so high and indicated that their rating indicated a likelihood of a successful D/s relationship. Below that was a computer-generated discussion of their main areas of similarity and their few areas of difference. Discussing Metallicar as the dominant partner and Castiel as the submissive, it listed mutual interest in bondage, light sadomasochism, humiliation, orgasm delay and denial, control play, exhibitionism, marking, and more; mutual areas of disinterest included bestiality, water play, partner sharing, and a long list of others. Their few disparities appeared to be instances where one had indicated "yellow" while the other had indicated green or red – there were no deal-breaking disagreements where one of them had a kink they loved that the other considered out of bounds.

They were _made_ for each other.

The temptation to take his phone out and text immediately was strong but Castiel forced himself not to. They weren't ready to scene yet. Castiel's hands shook as he typed out his reply to Metallicar, listing his availability, dodging the compliments, indicating his satisfaction with the results of their survey. Metallicar responded within minutes, his enthusiasm obvious as he sent a long list of scene ideas that he couldn't possibly have typed up so quickly.

 _He's been thinking about this all day. Thank God, I'm not alone in wanting this._

By the time Castiel retired for the night, he and Metallicar had talked for hours. Their boundaries were set, the scene ideas refined, and some basic rules were in place to protect them both. Castiel hadn't been able to bring himself to be candid about the issues he'd had in the past, but based on Metallicar's suggestions he'd picked up on how completely Castiel submitted and was determined to be careful of it. Metallicar's sensitivity to the subtleties behind Castiel's messages was particularly reassuring. Though they barely knew each other - they didn't _really_ know each other at all – Castiel already trusted the other man. He always fell fast. He'd thought using the anonymous service would change that but apparently not. Going forward, he'd have to be careful and cut things off if he got too involved. Deliberately ignoring his erection, how hot he'd gotten looking at their results, going through Metallicar's portfolio, considering scenes together, Castiel went to bed with the hope that as soon as the next day, he might get what he needed.

Castiel's hopes were disappointed. They had no communication as Castiel wound tighter and tighter hoping for the telltale chime of his cell phone. That evening, he checked SextersAnon but he had no new messages from Metallicar. Because this was what they'd discussed, he didn't feel alarmed, but he did feel hunger, anticipation, and arousal that he wouldn't give in to. Metallicar was an expert, had read Castiel like a book, and one of their ground rules was that Castiel would restrain himself from masturbating except when Metallicar gave him permission. It was a lot of control to grant so early in a relationship, but it was precisely the kind of thing that Castiel thrived on. They were bound by the honor system – Metallicar would have no idea if Castiel obeyed or not – but Castiel would know. If Metallicar asked him, he would reply honestly. Truthfulness was one of Castiel's conditions, one to which his new partner had unhesitatingly agreed, and he hoped that Metallicar would extend equivalent trust to him, would believe Castiel when he reported his obedience. Castiel went to sleep unsatisfied for a second night, wound tighter, cock harder. Despite that, he fell asleep easily, deriving a different kind of satisfaction from having the decision taken from him, knowing that he was obeying, knowing that Metallicar would take care of him. He felt more at peace than he had for years.

* * *

More to come soon! (The entire first draft is written and is 15k words, just have to get it all edited!)


	2. Chapter 2

Be aware, there are explicit PICTURES connected to this chapter, as well as the explicit content. To view them, go to unforth-ninawaters DOT tumblr DOT com and then enter this: post/135295954693/and-your-fore-warned-nsfw-post-cocks

Those are all pics that are traded back and forth by Cas and Dean in this story. :) Alternatively, if you read this on AO3, the images are embedded where they belong (my username is the same there as here).

Also be aware, I did my damnedest to find pictures close to what I was describing, but there was only so well I could do without spending much more time looking at porn that I cared to. (I mean, looking at porn is fun and all but I'd rather be writing and editing and posting porn). WHEN IN DOUBT MY DESCRIPTION TAKES PRECEDENCE OVER THE PICS. I'm sorry they're not all spot-on. If I had been cleverer, I'd have tracked down images and then written around them, but I wasn't that smart. Next time - while I was doing this I snagged any image I thought might be useful in the future for this 'verse...

* * *

The only time that Castiel had indicated he couldn't possibly reply to a text was the following morning. Castiel's presentation was four hours outlining the state of Sandover's international corporate contracts, four hours describing all the work Castiel had done the preceding year. The situation overall was good. After several years of Castiel looking incompetent as a result of economic forces outside of his control, now he looked good as a result of similar forces. Businesses were looking to grow, to forge new relationships, and that meant they were interested in working with Sandover. Castiel wasn't over-modest; he knew his own efforts and those of his department played a significant role in their success, but he also knew that he wasn't the only factor. As he spent the final hour discussing pending deals and his expectations for the fiscal year to come, he could look out on a sea of faces, most attentive and mildly approving, and feel satisfied that he'd done well and that his position was secure for another year.

There were no texts during his meeting, of course, nor did he receive any texts for the rest of the day.

7 AM Thursday morning, Castiel was in a working breakfast with his immediate superior, the Chief Fiscal Officer. There were only two days left of the retreat and the CFO's presentation was today, an entire day dedicated to a sweeping overview of the fiscal state of the company. In theory, Castiel was to provide backup but in practice he'd do nothing. The CFO, an older man named Joshua, was extremely competent and the preparation that Castiel and the CFO's other subordinates had done before this meeting were adequate to ensure that the CFO would not need additional support. Castiel and the other financial officers would sit at the back of the room, speak if questioned and otherwise sit quietly and attempt to pay attention to information that all of them were already thoroughly acquainted with. The long breakfast served as a final review and at the close of it they reported to the conference room, took their seats, and the day began.

Joshua's sonorous voice had a lilting quality to it. When he was angry or upset, he was impossible to ignore, but now as he spoke familiar words Castiel zoned out, elbows on the tables, hands folded before him covering the iPad he theoretically needed to take notes, feet resting flat on the floor, legs and knees properly together though the table could conceal any amount of fidgeting out of sight. The attentiveness of the attendees had flagged as the week progressed. Some members of the board had taken to glancing at their phones and more than one of Castiel's colleagues were furiously, silently typing away. Few had work that could be left idle for so many days in a row – Castiel included, but he had tackled his in the morning. The presentation proceeded smoothly, the hours compressed and dilated surreally, and Castiel focused as best he could.

The phone in his pocket – his left pocket, where he'd taken to keeping the spare – vibrated. Castiel caught his lip between his teeth. Only one person had that phone number. Eying the others around the room, Castiel took reassurance from seeing how many had their cell phones out and, hand trembling, Castiel retrieved his.

 _Metallicar67 (10:24 AM):_ Are you in public?

It was Metallicar's way of asking if this was a good time. Glancing around, schooling himself to exterior calm, Castiel felt a flash of panic.

 _Am I really going to do this_?

His hesitation vanished. He'd done public scenes before. He loved them. There was no time when control was more essential than when the risk of a mistake would lead to humiliation or worse.

 _Castiel (10:24 AM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (10:24 AM):_ Show me.

Laying his phone at a funny angle on the table, Castiel carefully staged a shot to be sure it would give no specifics away, and sent it to Metallicar.

 _Castiel (10:25 AM):_

IMAGE 1

 _Metallicar67 (10:25 AM):_ Looks important.

 _Castiel (10:26 AM):_ It is.

 _Metallicar67 (10:27 AM):_ Color?

 _Castiel (10:27 AM):_ Green.

 _Metallicar67 (10:28 AM):_ What's your safe word, MyBoyThursday?

They'd been over this before, but Castiel was happy for the ritual. It helped settle his qualms, helped him get into the correct headspace to proceed. Joshua's voice made a steady backdrop to his thoughts, accompanied by the rustle of papers, the sound of someone typing, the windy rush of the ventilation system, the dull _whump_ of someone tapping their foot beneath the table. The light streaming through the windows gave the scene a surreal quality, contrasting sharply with the mahogany wood of the tables, the black leather of the chairs, the crowd of seated men and women dressed in sedate colors aside from an occasional pop of brilliance where the light picked up some item of jewelry, reflected off a watch face, or glared from a cell phone screen. Taking slow, even breaths, Castiel mentally prepared himself as best he could for the unknown activities to come. His cock, hidden beneath the thick table, stirred noticeably, twitched as temptation whispered through him.

 _Castiel (10:29 AM):_ Magnolia.

 _Metallicar67 (10:30 AM)_ : If won't be unable to reply for more than five minutes, send me the number 1. Otherwise, I expect you to answer me promptly. You'll get one excused mistake. After that, there will be consequences. Do you understand?

 _Castiel (10:30 AM)_ : Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar76 (10:31 AM):_ To confirm, you agree that we can exchange text, images and video provided there is no identifying information in them?

 _Castiel (10:31 AM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (10:31 AM)_ : What is your schedule for the rest of the day?

 _Castiel (10:32 AM):_ I am currently in central time in the US. We will recess for lunch at noon, at which point I will have a one hour break to use as I will. From 1 pm until 6 pm this meeting will continue. From 6 pm to 7 pm, I will be in a debrief and unable to text. After 7 pm, I will be available. Things are likely to go later than that, though. I must be asleep by midnight.

Castiel repressed his desire to add " _if that's amenable to you, sir_ " as he hit send. It was too early in a relationship for Castiel to allow another to dictate when he went to sleep and woke up, far too early.

 _Metallicar67 (10:33 AM):_ Sounds like we have a lot of time together today. Does that possibility excite you?

 _Castiel (10:33 AM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (10:34 AM):_ Are you getting hard for me under that fancy suit of yours?

 _Castiel (10:34 AM):_ Yes, sir.

Castiel's reply was an understatement. His vivid imagination encompassed all the uses a skilled dom might make of him. Castiel was a captive, trapped in a board room that he could not leave: not to use the bathroom, not to take a phone call, for nothing short of an emergency. His situation forced him to silence and stillness. His cock strained so hard against the front of his boxer-briefs that the elastic dug into his thighs; desire curled within him and whispered his desire to be touched, to touch. Instead, he kept his face still as a mask. No one was paying attention to him and he had no intention of giving them reason to do.

 _Metallicar67 (10:35 AM):_ Show me.

It was like Metallicar could read his mind, making such a request on the heels of Castiel's vow to behave unsuspiciously. He flicked through screens to load the camera and turned the flash off so as not to betray him. Shifting casually, pulling closer to the table, he shifted the hand holding his phone to his knee, set the phone down on his quad and put a hand to his crotch. Castiel had never been more thankful for expensive suits with silent zippers. He left the button done, hooked his boxers with a thumb and freed himself. The brush of fabric over his erection caused a burst of pleasure behind his eyes, the gentle touch of his hand on his length amplified it. Aside from the minimum necessary to get through the day, he'd not touched himself since he and Metallicar began negotiating. Any other time, that would have been fairly normal for him, but with the anticipation of the last few days it felt like a life time. He blinked and forced his breathes to steadiness, knowing it was only to his own ears that he sounded unnaturally loud. Hoping there was enough light beneath the table, Castiel fumbled until he was fairly sure he'd taken the picture. Unsure what Metallicar had in mind next, he left himself exposed, trusting the table to give him privacy, and brought the camera back out. The screen showed a grainy shot that should be adequate. Heart pounding _– all it will take is one of my colleagues looking left or right, just one_ – Castiel hastily navigated the phone menus and sent the images.

 _Castiel (10:39 AM):_

IMAGE 2

 _Metallicar67 (10:40 AM):_ Very nice. Leave yourself out. Do not touch yourself. Keep quiet.

 _Castiel (10:40 AM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (10:41 AM):_ Just so you understand, MyBoyThursday, I bought something just for you, just for me to use while I am with you. If you are a good boy and do as I tell you, I will send you video of the use I put this to.

IMAGE 3

A whimper was barely suppressed in Castiel's throat as his cock bucked and scraped against the teeth of the zipper. The toy was impressively similar to him in size and girth – Metallicar had two naked pictures of Castiel and must have used them to find a close match – and he instantly identified with it, instantly knew that Metallicar had bought that dildo to _be_ Castiel, would only use it with him. The silicon was Castiel's surrogate. It didn't matter that he didn't know what Metallicar looked like, Castiel could envision a beautifully staged image of that cock – of _Castiel's_ cock – plunging in and out of his dom's body. He could imagine how that would feel. _So long…it's been so long.._. His cheeks flushed hot, he did another slow blink and controlled breath to keep from whimpering, and a bead of pre-come trailed coldly down his over-heated head, caught on the uncut skin wrinkled beneath.

 _Castiel (10:42 AM):_ I would like that very much.

 _Metallicar67 (10:45 AM):_ I thought you would. I've been thinking for two days about what I would do to you if I had you here, what I would have you do yourself since I can't tie you spread eagle to my bed. I'll admit, I've had so many ideas I can't make up my mind. Would you like to hear some of them?

Swallowing hard, Castiel struggled to keep his hands from trembling as he wrote out his reply on the small keyboard.

 _Castiel (10:45 AM)_ : Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (10:46 AM)_ : Perhaps, by the time you recess for lunch, I'll have decided which I like the best.

Over the hour that followed, Metallicar plied Castiel with the filthiest language he'd ever seen set down. Castiel's replies were brief: "yes sir," "I understand sir," "I would like that, sir," "anything you'd like, sir," aside from when Metallicar asked him for more detail. Expertly, Metallicar teased out information on how turned on Castiel was, confirmed that no one suspected, taunted him with the consequences should Castiel make a mistake. Vivid descriptions, sometimes accompanied by Metallicar's lovely photographs, came at regular intervals.

IMAGES x3

With the same insight he'd shown since they started communicating, Metallicar seemed to understand what a powerful imagination Castiel had, how easily he translated words and descriptions into sensations and feelings.

 _You're like a present for me to unwrap, MyBoyThursday, in your expensive suit and tie. Presents don't move, presents don't talk. I know you'll be so well behaved for me; you'll stand perfectly still while I remove every item so slowly, so carefully, stand still while I ball them up and threw them aside like trash. If you make a sound I will ruin that fine silk tie when I stuff it down your throat. I need to take a catalog of every feature of my gift, find out exactly what treasures I now find in my possessions, isolate every imperfection that we'll need to excise. Get you down on your knees, replace your tie with my cock. Hold still. If you move I'll choke you on me when I come down your throat, but if you're good I'll mark you up, paint your pretty face white, rub it all in so you don't forget who you belong to now. Once you know it's going to be a good long while before I'm ready to go again, that's when the real fun starts. Don't you dare come, good boy, don't you dare touch yourself. No one takes care of you but me._

Lunch recess was mercifully called, but not until it was nearly 15 minutes late – a change that Metallicar clearly delighted in, as he'd been working Castiel up with promises that they both knew would find no fulfillment until Castiel could seek the semblance of privacy. The delay was torture. The room felt swelteringly hot, Castiel's shirt clung to him damp with sweat, his cock was wet and streaked with leaking fluid, his nerves were frayed, his hands trembled, and only long practice kept his distress from showing on his face.

 _Castiel (12:16 PM):_ We're breaking for lunch, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (12:16 PM):_ Describe what's happening.

 _Castiel (12:18 PM):_ I'm sitting at the table with my things packed. The room is large and there are around a hundred people present. One wall is composed of windows and looks out over a city. We're twenty two stories up. One wall is blank white save for a projector screen. The other two walls are composed glass that fronts the hallway leading to other parts of the building. My colleagues are all rising and speaking.

Castiel slid to the send button as Milton asked him his plans for lunch and he begged off. He couldn't conceive of eating, his stomach twisted with arousal that bordered into illness. As soon as she was gone, he returned to his phone screen. Concern brought a frown to her pretty face, she asked if he was feeling alright, asked if he'd received distressing news, and he wasn't sure what excuse he made, only that it was adequate to get her to leave so that he could return to his conversation before Metallicar grew displeased with Castiel's partial answer.

 _Castiel (12:20 PM):_ Sorry, someone spoke to me. Everyone is filing from the room discussing lunch plans. I cannot move until they leave.

 _Metallicar67 (12:21 PM)_ : Acting pretty suspiciously, aren't you Thursday? Tell me – what exactly would your coworkers see if you stood up?

Pounding drowned out the sound of small talk as Castiel imagined Metallicar ordering him to rise and reveal his shameful condition to the assemblage. With horrible certainty, he knew that if the command was given, he'd obey it. Even ruining his career wouldn't be enough to get him to safe word out of the scene. _This is why I don't get to have a regular dom in my life. This is why I can't do this with a real person_. Praying that his trust in Metallicar wasn't misplaced, that Metallicar wouldn't ask more of him than Castiel should give, he typed out his reply.

 _Castiel (12:23 PM):_ They'd see that my legs are trembling. One person already observed that my hands are shaking and that I've been on my cell phone all meeting. They were concerned that something might be the matter but I assured them it was a personal matter and that, while I appreciated their concern, it was unwarranted.

He'd lost the thread of what he meant to say but decided to hit send instead of deleting and starting over. With only their words to go by there were few cues that Castiel could give as to his mental and physical state. Castiel's self-knowledge showed his reply to be disjointed, rambling, perturbed; if Metallicar had any sense of him, he'd see the same, understand the implications, and hopefully would be pleased instead of annoyed.

 _Castiel (12:24 PM)_ : They'd see that my cock is out, erect, red, damp. They'd see how aroused I am right now. Because of you, sir.

Quick glances showed Castiel that everyone was out of the room or clustered around the door, talking quietly, ignoring him. Shifting his chair, Castiel angled his body away from the door, enough back from the table that, were anyone by the window, they'd see him exposed. That area of the room was empty, though, and Castiel was safe. That didn't stop his nerves from thrilling. Gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles went white, Castiel used the other to hold his phone out and take a picture of himself, carefully framing it to show his dark suit, his white buttoned shirt, his striped tie, his pleated pants, and his flushed, neglected cock.

 _Castiel (12:25 PM)_ :

IMAGE 4

 _Metallicar67 (12:26 PM):_ What a pretty picture you make. I can tell you've followed my directions. Do you think you've earned a reward?

 _Castiel (12:27 PM):_ That is your decision to make, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (12:27 PM):_ If I ask you a question, I expect a real reply. I know it's my decision, boy. I didn't ask for bullshit, I asked your opinion.

 _Castiel (12:28 PM)_ : I don't believe I've earned a reward yet, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (12:28 PM)_ : Why not?

 _Castiel (12:29 PM)_ :Thus far, this has not been a situation in which it has been that difficult to maintain my self-control.

Explaining himself felt strange. Castiel had never had a dom who asked him such questions. They pushed him as hard as they wished, took advantage of how submissive he grew, and he enjoyed his scenes while they were going on. It was afterwards, when he was no longer in subspace, that he sometimes realized he'd gone far beyond his what he should have been doing. He'd never been pushed beyond what he was capable of, he still didn't know the limit on that, but many scenes he'd done had gone past what was healthy for him. Struggling with his reply to Metallicar pulled him from his headspace, reminded him that he was sitting in a conference room, the hum of voices in the hallway, his cock hanging out, his body thrumming with tension and desire.

 _Metallicar67 (12:29 PM):_ Really? You'd rather be pushed harder?

If someone walked in, they'd see him. If someone he worked with came looking for him, if someone needed him, if someone wanted to ask if he wanted lunch…humiliation and worry threatened to subsume his arousal. He was frightened, mortified, and not in a good way.

 _Castiel (12:30 PM):_ As this is our first scene, I'd prefer we not test my limits at this time.

 _Maybe I should stop this, maybe I should…_

 _Metallicar67 (12:30 PM):_ Color?

 _Castiel (12:30 PM):_ Yellow.

 _Deep breaths, Cas. It's okay. He knows I'm not completely comfortable. I have to trust him_. Locking his back rigid against the leather chair back, Castiel pushed the chair up to the table, hid himself once more, pulled his iPad from his briefcase and set it on the table so it would appear that he was working.

 _Metallicar67 (12:31 PM)_ : I'm going to take good care of you, I promise. Put your cock away.

The firm directions helped Castiel restore his equilibrium. Reaching down, he wrapped fingers around himself to slip his cock back in his underwear. He was achingly hard, had been for hours, and pleasure flared behind his eyes even at the non-sensual touch. His ability to maintain an erection for unusually long periods was one of the things his doms liked to take advantage of, an inborn ability amplified by his willpower. In this case, though, it had been so long since he'd pushed himself, so long since he'd been in a scene. The ideas enflaming him were so enticing that he had to close his eyes against the heat coursing through his body. His breath quickened and his cheeks grew hot, his mouth open around an _oh_ of pleasure. The band of his boxer-briefs slid abradingly down his length and an inadvertent whimper escaped into the quiet board room. Mortified, flushed, he tucked himself away, zipped his fly and set his head against the edge of the table in an effort to get back under control.

 _Dammit_.

Picking up the phone in trembling fingers, he forced himself to type out his confession.

 _Castiel (12:33 PM):_ Sir, I made a noise.

 _Metallicar67 (12:33 PM):_ Were my instructions unclear?

 _Castiel (12:34 PM):_ No, sir.

The wait for a reply was agonizing, endless seconds certain that punishment was coming – punishment he would have to administer himself – with no guess what that punishment might be. Finally, the phone vibrated.

 _Metallicar67 (12:36 PM)_ : Sit up straight, MyBoyThursday. Stay in that fancy chair of yours. You're not leaving the board room. Let your coworkers think you're working – unless one of them walks by and sees you. I was under the impression you were better at controlling yourself. You told me that you were excellent at that, yet you failed already. You're going to have to do much better to prove yourself to me. If you were wrong about yourself in that regard, how can I trust your other self-assessment? You've got the remainder of lunch to prove yourself to me, or else…

Something in the way it was written didn't cause Castiel as much distress as such an accusation might have. After their former conversation, their negotiation when they weren't in the midst of a scene, Castiel was sure that this was his dom talking, that the man texting him hadn't _actually_ ceased to trust him. Relying on his intuition in that regard, Castiel followed the instructions, he sat up, opened his e-mail on the iPad and began to read through the backlog. He didn't know how to pretend to work, so he might as well actually work.

 _Metallicar67 (12:37 PM):_ Pull yourself out again. Run a finger – just one – from the base of your cock to the head.

Reaching under the desk with his off-hand, Castiel did as he was instructed. There was no way to remove himself from his pants without using multiple fingers, but he kept contact on his aching flesh to the bare minimum. The cold air of the room stung on the over-sensitized skin, and when he ran the thumb of his off-hand up his length, he had to repress a shudder. It was essential that he keep still, essential that he be quiet, essential that no one walking by have the least cause to suspect he was doing anything other than working. Pleasure thrummed through his body, pounded like a heartbeat in his head. His eyes were dry as he stared fixedly at the screen, his cock bucked and leaked thin liquid that made a chill trail down his length.

 _Metallicar67 (12:40 PM):_ Talk to me, Thursday.

 _Castiel (12:41 PM):_ It feels good, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (12:41 PM):_ If I walked by right now, what would I see?

 _Castiel (12:42 PM):_ A man sitting and working at his iPad and typing on his phone.

 _Metallicar67 (12:43 PM):_ Good. Are you wet for me?

 _Castiel (12:43 PM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (12:44 PM):_ How does it taste?

Castiel ran a single finger over the slit at the end of his cock as a fresh bead of liquid trailed out. Bliss lit like sparklers in his vision, his sight tunneled in on the phone, and he only barely kept his composure.

 _Touch me, please, touch me, stroke me, let me give in to this, tell me it's alright to enjoy this, please, I need to feel everything_ …

… _not yet. Not until he says so._

Tremors caused Castiel's hand to quake subtly as he lifted it to his mouth. He'd tasted his own pre-release before, and had his own come, and he'd done a scene that he'd had to safe word out of where he'd been forced to try other things as well. The flavor always surprised him, salty with a tang of sweet and sour, strange without being unpleasant. Pre-release was the only bodily substance other than saliva he enjoyed, though there was a certain profound satisfaction in being permitted to taste his dom's come. Overpowering thoughts swept over him, of Metallicar's release on his lips, Metallicar's cock in his mouth, Metallicar's fingers digging into Castiel's scalp as he ruthlessly fucked Castiel's face. He managed a measured blink and allowed a single breath to rush out a bit too loudly. His cock bucked violently, brushing against his buttoned suit jacket.

 _Castiel (12:46 PM):_ Salty. Earthy. A bit like mushroom, but sweet.

 _Metallicar67 (12:47 PM):_ Do you like it?

"Would you like anything, Mr. Novak?"

Castiel's head jerked towards the glass door of the room. Mr. Alfred – Alfie, to his friends – poked his head into the room, a broad grin making him look even more boyish than usual. That innocent face was one of the negotiator's greatest weapons. No one took Alfie seriously until it was too late.

"Thank you, Mr. Alfred, but I'm not hungry." Castiel's voice came out perfectly steady, measured, not a hint of what he was in the midst of. A surge of triumph and pride left him dizzy with pleasure. Alfie's mouth was moving but Castiel couldn't hear him for the rushing sound in his ears. Fortunately, no response appeared necessary, as Alfie gave him a pleasant smile and left the room.

 _Castiel (12:50 PM):_ Very much, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (12:51 PM):_ Kinda slow there, Thursday. Not doing anything you shouldn't be, are you?

 _Castiel (12:51 PM):_ I'd never do that, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (12:52 PM):_ Prove it.

Panic flitted through Castiel's mind. How was he supposed to prove his obedience? Several options passed through his mind but none seemed adequate. Finally, he took his phone and turned on the video camera. Panning the room, he showed the glass hallway down which several people strode, showed one of his hands resting on his iPad, turned the camera towards himself carefully to avoid his face, ran it down the length of his suited body as he twisted towards the window to ensure that his swollen, red, leaking cock was well lit and perfectly displayed. There could be no better proof of his obedience than demonstrating both his outward calm and his advanced state of arousal.

"As you can see, sir, I am diligently attending to my duties," he said aloud as he lingered on his cock. Knowing that his dom would watch the video momentarily made his pulse rush and his erection twitch; a fresh burst of pre-release pooled at the tip and he stopped the recording. His pulse beat wildly as he sent the video.

 _Castiel (12:54 PM):_ For your edification, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (12:57 PM):_ You have a very nice voice, Thursday. I'd like to hear more of it. Are you sure you're comfortable sharing something that personal with me?

It hadn't even occurred to Castiel to worry about speaking, though he'd sworn to himself beforehand not to send any identifiable pictures or other information that could be traced back to him. Lost in the moment, he hadn't even thought about the potential risks. There was no changing the decision now, and besides, if hearing Castiel speak brought Metallicar pleasure…

… _thoughts like that are what get you into trouble every time, Castiel…_

By doing this scene at all, Castiel was entrusting Metallicar with his entire career. In comparison to that, what difference did it make if the man heard his voice?

 _Castiel (12:58 PM):_ I trust you, sir. Further, I expect to hear yours this evening when you provide me with the video using the toy you bought.

 _Metallicar67 (12:59 PM):_ Pretty cocky, aren't you? Watch out, that kind of confidence will get you in trouble.

 _Castiel (1:00 PM)_ : I am optimistic that my service will be satisfying. Of course, in the end it will be up to you. I presume nothing.

 _Metallicar67 (1:01 PM):_ You're doing very well, Thursday. I am pleased with your obedience thus far. Your colleagues are gonna come back from lunch soon, right?

 _Castiel (1:01 PM):_ Any time now.

 _Metallicar67 (1:02 PM):_ As a reward, you may continue to use one finger on yourself as long as you want. Don't come, though.

Tension Castiel hadn't even noticed slid from his shoulders as he swept his thumb through the wet coating of pre-release covering the head of his cock and ran the finger smoothly up and down his length. It was hopelessly inadequate yet he thought he'd come if he kept at it for more than a few minutes. After so much teasing, so much desire, after Metallicar's modest praise of his performance, he was wound tight enough to pop. He kept his touch slow even as his thoughts begged for more. To distract himself, he opened his e-mail, tapped out a one-handed reply to a subordinate, each exhalation stuttering, each heartbeat a burst of blood and light and rapture.

 _Metallicar67 (1:07 PM):_ Awful quiet over there, Thursday.

 _Castiel (1:08 PM):_ As per your orders, sir. My colleagues are returning to the room and taking their seats.

 _Metallicar67 (1:09 PM):_ Are you still touching yourself?

 _Castiel (1:09 PM):_ Absolutely.

 _Metallicar67 (1:10 PM):_ Good boy, Thursday. Such a good boy for me.

 _Castiel (1:10 PM):_ Thank you, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (1:13 PM):_ We're going to change things up for the afternoon. You have earned some small amount of trust based on your performance thus far. As such, you are no longer required to reply to each of my texts, but I will continue to send you them. If I ask a question you will answer. You will stay hard. Do you understand?

 _Castiel (1:14 PM):_ Yes, sir.

Maintaining an erection for hours was uncomfortable at best and dangerous at worse, but Castiel had done scenes where he'd stayed agonizingly hard for much longer periods and he knew he could handle it. It wouldn't be fun while he was trapped in perpetual anticipation, but the release at the end would be worth it.

 _Metallicar67 (1:15 PM):_ Color?

 _Castiel (1:15 PM):_ Green.

Well, no, he amended, the first release would be wretched, it always was after waiting so long, but the second would be worth it. He prayed that Metallicar was familiar enough with these kinds of scenes to know that, prayed that Metallicar would be pleased enough with Castiel's submission to allow him even one release. Going to sleep unsatisfied after such a long day would be torture.

But he would do it if Metallicar told him to.

"Everyone have a nice lunch?" Joshua asked with a smile that would have done a politician proud. There was a murmur of general assent. "That's good, because I own you for another four hours." Polite laughter greeted the joke. Forcing his gaze up, Castiel looked to the front of the board room and continued to run a single finger up and down himself. He wondered how long he could tease himself before he had to stop.

His limit proved to be an hour straight.

The afternoon meeting session afforded Castiel ample time to test himself. Metallicar sent Castiel texts every few minutes, teasing him with delicious words and more of his gorgeous photography. His occasional questions primarily checked Castiel's level of arousal or his color, which was solidly green. He was fine – agonizingly aroused, terrified of getting caught, desperate for release, his vision tunneling; he was high on endorphins and just enough out of subspace to recognize how deeply in subspace he truly was. But other than that, he was fine. He was under control.

There were close calls, many of them, the worst being when Joshua asked Castiel to expound on a point he'd hardly registered the first time it was said. Castiel stood with difficulty, his legs trembling, and carefully timed his ascent such that he clasped his hands before himself at precisely the same time as his cock would have come into full view. The wide cuffs of his jacket and the scoop of his sweaty palms were all that were between him and exposure and ruin. In a steady voice, he managed to come off as entirely coherent and cogent, though within minutes after he couldn't have repeated his words or even said what topic he'd spoken on. When he sat again, he barely suppressed a sigh of relief. He wished Metallicar could have witnessed _that_. There was no way to send the information in a text without coming off as boastful, so he held his silence save to answer Metallicar's question and refrained from touching himself for more than ten minutes, knowing that if he did he'd come on the spot.

 _I can be good. I can wait. I can keep this a secret. I can restrain myself. I can resist this. I can be what Metallicar needs me to be._

Such thoughts sustained him through the long hours as pleasure slowly gave way to discomfort, nausea, and pain. Bodies weren't meant to sustain such an intense level of arousal for so long; with his delayed release came increasing distress, but he could do this, he knew he could. Metallicar's comments grew increasingly licentious the clearer it became that Castiel was straining, and Castiel rose to the occasion, thrived on his ability to meet every challenge.

 _Castiel (6:24 PM):_ The meeting is concluding, sir. As I mentioned, I now must attend a debriefing with my boss, during which time I will not be available and will be unable to check my phone. I anticipate finishing around 7:30. Do you have any instructions for me during that time?

 _Metallicar67 (6:25 PM):_ You may put yourself away, provided you can do so silently. What is your color as regards maintaining your erection?

Pain like pinpricks spread throughout Castiel's body as he touched his desperate cock. Each slight brush against his flesh amplified to feel ten times, a hundred times more powerful. Pulling the elastic over his hardness felt like he was rubbing himself with sandpaper, placing himself so that standing wouldn't reveal his arousal away felt like closing a vise over the sensitive flesh. He knew _exactly_ what that felt like. This might actually be worse, he thought, focusing all his energy on controlling his breathing and keeping the flush from his cheeks. The faint metallic ping of his zipper going up sounds like nails being driven into his coffin. He had no idea how he was going to walk, his thoughts growing increasingly panicky as he realized any moment he'd have to try.

 _I'm alright, though. I can do this._

 _Castiel (6:26 PM):_ Green.

"Novak, are you feeling well?" Alfie appeared as from nowhere standing across the table from him, lay a hand uninvited on Castiel's forehead. "I thought it was weird when you skipped lunch and now your cheeks are flushed – I think you're running a fever."

"I'm fine," said Castiel more harshly than he meant to. Several people around him turned, startled by his curtness, and Alfie pulled away as if burned.

"Maybe you should skip dinner," Ms. Milton suggested sympathetically, rising, shoving her tablet in her purse as she did. "You've been working very hard, none of us came to the board meeting after a week in Morocco and four days in China."

"I said I'm fine," Castiel repeated more calmly. "I will have plenty of time to rest later this evening." Being forced to interact with his colleagues helped calm him, helped push away the pain eating as his senses, and with meager confidence he pushed away from the table and rose with hardly a quaver. Nonetheless, his coworkers watched as if they expected him to pitch on his face. _How must I look right now? Based on what Milton said, merely exhausted. Exhaustion is excusable. The reality, that I'm on the verge of begging any one of them to jerk me off, would be less socially acceptable._ He gave each of them a glance, reassured himself that all looked nothing but worried, and surprised himself by managing a perfectly steady step, another, another. His phone vibrated.

 _Metallicar67 (6:30 PM)_ : Maintain your arousal and return to your room as soon as possible.

 _Metallicar67 (6:31 PM):_ I trust you, MyBoyThursday. Do you understand?

 _Castiel (6:31 PM):_ Yes, sir. I will text you as soon as I'm available.

The declaration was exactly what Castiel needed to hear. His coworkers might doubt his physical state but Metallicar believed in him, believed in his self-assessment, believed him capable of self-control. Each step grew easier as he followed Alfie and Milton from the room. They and the others attending dinner made small talk; Castiel even found the wherewithal to join in. Every appearance of normalcy helped him ignore his desperate arousal, helped the minutes between him and relief pass more quickly.

 _I can do this_. _I must do this_.

* * *

Last chapter will go up tomorrow. :)


	3. Chapter 3

More explicit photos in this one. Again: did my best to find ones that were close. :) You can find them in the same post as I described in the previous Chapter. Again – sorry I can't link them directly in here. The limitations of are frustrating to me, too. :(

* * *

Dinner was challenging. Castiel's appetite was nonexistent, but he ordered a light meal anyway, salmon with steamed vegetables. He had to eat _something_ , considering he'd not had a bite since breakfast. When the food arrived, he picked at it listlessly. They were at one of the best restaurants in Dallas; Castiel had eaten there before and knew the food was good but the salmon tasted like cardboard, the vegetables felt _wrong_ in his mouth. He hardly ate any, the texture and flavor making him ill. Conversation swirled around him as, theoretically, Sandover's management team debriefed after their meeting. In practice, they patted themselves and each other on the back for a job well done. The hard part of the Board Meeting was done, they'd succeeded, there was only one more day left and it would be spent in award giving, speech making, the induction of a new board member and other celebratory activities. After a month of frantic preparation, the hard work and the stress were passed until next year. For most, this meal constituted their first reward, maybe their only award.

Everything Castiel anticipated awaited him at his hotel room.

Maintaining his erection was simultaneously easy and incredibly difficult. He was overwrought enough to not need much encouragement, but every contact with himself, even though cloth, burst pleasure-pain through his body, through his head. It had never been more difficult for him to keep silent. Castiel had done scenes that would have met legal definitions of torture, he'd held himself at bay for hours and days, but of all of that he thought that dinner might be the slowest hour of his life. All he wanted was for the meal to end.

As the evening grew dark, his colleagues settled in for coffee and dessert and drinks and Castiel couldn't take it any longer. No one appeared surprised when he rose abruptly and excused himself. Milton shot a sympathetic "feel better, Novak!" his way, and as he walked away he overheard Joshua asking what had happened.

 _Impacting your job already. Great job. First scene with a damn stranger and you're already in too deep. It doesn't matter. I have to get back._

The three block walk back to his hotel was endless, the elevator had never seemed slower, and the length of the hallway was nearly unbearable. So close to everything he'd waited all day for, Castiel's ears buzzed, his body trembled, his cock screamed discomfort and sensitivity. When he finally reached privacy, his hands shook so badly he dropped his keycard while opening the door. Squatting down to retrieve it squeezed his cock and tears leaked from his eyes. Finally, he got the door open, slammed it behind him and collapsed against it, let himself take a few gasping breaths, let himself vocalize his discomfort and need, let himself shake uncontrollably.

 _No. Stop. If he were here, he'd be furious to see me behaving like this. He'd punish me. He'd take care of himself and send me to bed alone. Get it together. If I can't earn this, if I can't_ really _earn it, then it's all been for nothing._

With such thoughts castigating him, Castiel forced himself upright, locked his back and knees, and pulled the cell phone from his pocket.

 _Castiel (7:43 PM):_ I've returned to my room, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (7:44 PM):_ You're late.

 _Castiel (7:44 PM):_ I'm sorry. I did my best.

 _Metallicar67 (7:45 PM):_ I'm sure you did.

Castiel's imagination could provide a dozen possible inflections for the words, from angry to mocking, yet without being able to say how he knew, he thought them sincere. Absurd, he reminded himself; there was no evidence for that belief, his conviction reflected nothing except what he _needed_ to believe. He needed Metallicar to believe in him, to believe him, so he clung to his interpretation. His legs trembled. He hadn't even left the entry hall of the room; he stood stock still, holding the phone, counting seconds between texts.

 _Metallicar67 (7:45 PM):_ Color?

 _Castiel (7:46 PM):_ Yellow.

 _Metallicar67 (7:46 PM):_ Are you still hard?

 _Castiel (7:47 PM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (7:47 PM):_ Deep breaths, Thursday. I'm going to take care of you now.

 _Please, please, please, oh God, please..._

 _Castiel (7:47 PM):_ Thank you, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (7:48 PM):_ What has been the most challenging thing for you today?

 _Castiel (7:49 PM):_ When my employer asked me a question and I had to stand and present to the group for five minutes.

There was an agonizingly long pause. With effort, Castiel stepped further into the room, one agonized step at a time, slowly pacing at the foot of the bed. Walking was uncomfortable but standing still with nothing to distract him was even worse. He needed a focus or he was going to fail, he was going to collapse and touch himself and scream as he finally came.

 _Not yet...oh, please..._

 _Metallicar67 (7:52 PM):_ You did that?

 _Castiel (7:53 PM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (7:53 PM):_ With your cock hanging out?

 _Castiel (7:54 PM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (7:54 PM):_ Show me.

Closing his eyes, Castiel took two breaths, set the phone down beside him, and carefully undid the zipper of his pants. There was no way to pull down the elastic on his boxer-briefs without misery, but he did his best to be gentle with himself. _If my dom was here, he wouldn't be gentle with me_. The people Castiel had been with in the past wouldn't have cared how close to his limit Castiel was at. He dared to hope, based on their pre-scene conversations, that Metallicar might be different, but in the moment it was impossible to credit. Part of him screamed to confess every moment of weakness, how he'd crumbled against the door, how he shook from head to toe now as he tenderly took his shaft in hand and nudged it through the opening at his the pose he'd made earlier, Castiel set his phone to a take the shot with a five second delay and took an awkward picture.

 _Castiel (7:56 PM):_

IMAGE 6

 _Metallicar67 (7:58 PM):_ And you stood before a board room of suits like that?

 _Castiel (7:58 PM):_ Yes.

 _Metallicar67 (7:59 PM):_ And talked to them about widgets or some shit?

 _Castiel (7:59 PM):_ Yes.

 _Metallicar67 (7:59 PM):_ Everyone was looking at you?

 _Castiel (8:00 PM):_ Yes.

 _Metallicar67 (8:01 PM):_ And no one suspected?

 _Castiel (8:01 PM)_ : I don't believe so. Several of my colleagues appear to believe I'm running a fever.

 _Metallicar67 (8:02 PM):_ You're remarkable, Thursday.

The praise brought a burst of warmth, caused his cock to brush against the hand yet resting at his cock, eased some of his worries.

 _Castiel (8:02 PM):_ Thank you, sir.

 _Please, sir, please..._

 _Metallicar67 (8:03 PM):_ You've earned your reward.

A further burst of relief nearly brought Castiel to his knees. If Metallicar was standing before him, Castiel wasn't sure he could have kept himself from begging. As it was, he locked his jaw and forbade himself from typing out any of the words howling through his thoughts.

 _Strip me, kiss me, touch me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me please, I'll do anything..._

 _Metallicar67 (8:04 PM):_ We didn't talk about this before, but I've been thinking...do you Skype?

 _Castiel (8:04 PM):_ Yes, sir.

 _Metallicar67 (8:05 PM):_ If it were alright with you, I'd much rather send you live video than a recording. I don't want you to be in any doubt of the effect you've had on me today. Our faces would be off screen, of course. I can send you resources for obscuring your IP and other safety precautions, if you're worried about such things.

The only warning bell that sounded in Castiel's thoughts was the one warning him that he should be panicking at the mere suggestion. Instead, he unhesitatingly typed out his reply.

 _Castiel (8:05 PM):_ I know how to protect my identity online, sir. Would I be permitted to hear you?

 _Metallicar67 (8:06 PM):_ Of course.

 _Castiel (8:06 PM):_ That would be acceptable to me. I need five minutes to set things up.

Before Metallicar replied, Castiel walked purposefully to his desk, cock slapping his legs at every step, set the phone down beside his computer and half sat, half fell into the chair.

 _Metallicar67 (8:07 PM):_ Do it.

Opening his laptop, he loaded his browser and took the necessary precautions. After his experimenting with cybersex, he'd learned what steps he needed to take to protect himself, had refreshed himself and updated his software when he made his SextersAnon account. As soon as he'd loaded everything, he made a secondary Skype account as a slave to his primary, username MyBoyThursday, and opened a chat window. Carefully observing where his webcam aimed, he positioned his chair in the inadequate light of the single lamp and placed the monitor to show only what he wanted to reveal – his crotch, the surrounding suit, the chair, his trousered thighs, his jacketed chest, but not his face. For added measure, he removed his school ring, watch, tie pin and cuff links. Nothing distinctive remained, only a generic if well cut black suit, a blue tie, a white buttoned shirt, and his miserable, desperate dick. Hands shaking, he picked up his phone again. S _o close, so close now, oh God I hope...I hope..._ he couldn't let the thought finish. Allowing his imagination to touch on what he wanted was more than he could bear. He was tiptoeing on the edge of a cliff; cracking now would be the worst.

 _Castiel (8:13 PM):_ I'm ready, sir. My username is MyBoyThursday.

 _Metallicar67 (8:14 PM):_ I'm set too. One guess what mine is.

Castiel didn't get a chance to type his response before a video chat window popped up. The view was as carefully staged as Castiel's was. Metallicar stood before the camera, his lower abdomen and soft belly uncovered, skin richly tanned and shaved smooth. At his navel, a trail of brown hair thickened towards his shadowed crotch. Unbuttoned, unzipped jeans hung loosely from fine hip bones, no a tan line to be seen, and a thick cock flushed pink-brown stuck straight out of the barely-visible nest of hair, two thick veins standing out prominently.

IMAGE 8

As Castiel stared, a drop of pre-come squeezed free, streaked over the dark head, dangled without falling. Unable to stop himself, Castiel's thoughts came unbidden to his lips; it was all he could do to keep his mouthing silent.

 _Oh God, you're gorgeous, I want you, I want you so much, let me fill you, let me touch you...I'll do anything..._

"Heya, Thursday," said a gruff voice with a faint southern drawl, sound like the touch of fingers over Castiel's skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He couldn't do this much longer. A broad hand, tanned arm, manly with curled brown hairs, reached into view, adjusted the monitor on the other end. The image fragmented into pixels for an instant and then reformed aimed a little lower, beautiful cock in perfect focus, head flushed, ridge prominent, slit a black, wet hole. "How'm I comin' through?"

"Excellently," said Castiel. He sounded strained to his own ear; he prayed Metallicar wouldn't detect it. He added belatedly, "sir. Is mine adequate?"

"Wish the lighting was better," Metallicar conceded. A stab of guilt pierced cold through Castiel's gut and spawned fear bordering into panic. _No, no, he has to be happy, there's nothing more important than satisfying him, nothing more important than being what he wants_. Twisting, Castiel looked to see if there were any other lights in the room he could turn on, but all of the scattered lamps were lit, casting golden pools that failed to brighten things.

"I'm sor—"

"We'll manage," interrupted Metallicar, not unkindly. "Unbutton your jacket and shirt. I've seen you in a suit plenty, I want to see what's beneath."

"Yes, sir," Castiel breathed as he obeyed. _How many times will he forgive me? I can't keep screwing up. He doesn't even know how close I came to failing, I should tell him, I should..._ His hands shook uncontrollably. He expected a reprimand at every moment but none came as he loosened his tie, undid the three buttons of his suit and the neat line of mother-of-pearl buttons on his shirt. Unsure if Metallicar wanted him to strip, he pulled back the layers, untucking the wrinkled shirt tails and pulling them back to reveal his chest.

IMAGE 7

"Good," Metallicar muttered. The desire evident in the tone brought a pleased flush to Castiel's cheeks and caused his cock to twitch. Metallicar chuckled. "Pants, too. And leave the tie. I like it." The soft silk teased at Castiel's sensitive skin, brushed over a bared nipple. Resisting the urge to palm alluringly down his belly, Castiel undid the belt of his pants and tugged it aside, undid the button of his pants. "I bet you could stripe your back real pretty with that belt." Castiel's cock twitched, the flesh of his belly quivered at the thought. "That's something I'd like to see. Would you like that?"

"Now, sir?" Castiel asked nervously.

Metallicar laughed deliciously and Castiel stared at the video feed as he watched his dom's thick cock buck. "No, not now."

"In that case, yes, sir, I'd like that very much," admitted Castiel.

"Oh man," huffed Metallicar. Castiel imagined a face, handsome, masculine, high cheek bones, deep dark eyes, short brown hair, imagined the eyes slipping shut as Metallicar pictured Castiel hitting himself, imagined every subtle reaction suggested by Metallicar's simple words. "You're somethin'. How hasn't some dom claimed you ages ago? Collared you, leashed you, locked you up safe and sound? You're a prize, Thursday. You deserve someone who appreciates what you have to offer, someone who'll tie you up, bruise and bleed you and give you exactly what you need. If I had you here right now I'd..." Metallicar paused, drew a strained breath, ran his hands hard over the sleek, gleaming gold skin of his torso. "Touch every inch of that body, tease those pretty little nipples so hard you'd cry – but you wouldn't, would you? All that beautiful self-control, man, I want to make you crack."

 _You are making me crack, holy hell you are, I can't...I can't..._ Mesmerized, Castiel stared hungrily.

"Look at you leak," Metallicar breathed. "But not a sound, hardly a flutter to your chest. Fucking _perfect_. I'm not _giving_ you anything. You _earned_ this."

"Thank you, sir," Castiel whispered.

Metallicar turned behind him. When he shifted, Castiel could see a bed behind him, angles clearly planned, and Metallicar bent and got on his knees on the mattress, shoulders and head well out of the camera view. The position was spectacular, showing off the strong muscles of Metallicar's back, the dip of his spine, the gorgeous curve of his lower back, the swell of his ass.

"This is you," Metallicar said, bringing the familiar dildo into view. Staring at it, Castiel felt his own cock instantly throb sympathetically. That toy _was_ him; whatever Metallicar did with it was what he would do with Castiel if he only could, and Castiel bought into that fantasy completely. Reaching back with both hands, one clutching the thick dildo, Metallicar pulled his pants down and revealed his tanned, smooth ass cheeks. Castiel swallowed a desperate groan of desire. The man wore a plug, lubricant gleaming wet around it. Castiel balled his hands into fists in the fabric of his pants, tears leaking from his thoughts had gone simple, base, only vague concepts, _want, please, need, touch, can't, can't, have to wait, please, want_. He knew he was panting, knew he was shaking, knew that if Metallicar wanted to he'd have ample cause to punish him, but no castigation came and Castiel did his damnedest to keep himself from exploding.

 _Can't..._

With his free hand, Metallicar thrust the plug in and out of himself slowly, biting back a deep groan. His hole spread easily around the bulbous toy, gave Castiel an exquisite view of Metallicar's pucker, his wrinkled balls, his hard cock. Negligently, Metallicar pulled the plug out, tossed it aside, lined the dildo up to his loosened, prepared hole and held still.

"Ready?"

 _No, God no, I can't watch and not touch...so beautiful, want you so much... I need permission, you haven't said I may..._ please _sir...please, please, please, please..._ "Yes, sir," Castiel's voice came out cracked, rough as gravel over pavement. Effortlessly, Metallicar pressed the black length into himself, rim spreading wide around the length, and he deliberately, calmly embedded the toy in himself to hilt.

Gasping, hands clenching at cloth, Castiel's feet slid helplessly against the floor, his muscles seized and inconceivable pleasure swamped him as if Metallicar's gorgeous muscles were squeezing tight and wet around him. The world went golden in agony and rapture.

Broken mewling filled Castiel's ears, his body tingled as if he had pins and needles from head to toe, his chest heaved, and he realized belated that he was making that desperate noise, that his limbs were twitching uncontrollably, that his nails were digging into his thighs bruisingly hard. His eyes were squeezed so tight he didn't think he could open them, tears falling freely from beneath the lids as he struggled against sobs.

Another sound resolved, distinct from those bursting uncontrollably from him. _I failed, I lost it, he's going to punish me, he's going to_... "...hear me? Thursday, come on Thursday, listen to me – focus – can you hear me? I need you to answer me, Thursday, I need you to try, I know you can do it, just keep listening to me, just—"

"Metallicar?" he whispered, trying to force his eyes open.

"Thank fucking God, dude, okay, you're doing great, keep focusing on me...are you alright? Color?"

The word was devoid of meaning. _Brown...brown is a nice color, tan like your skin or dark like your hair...gold and lustrous and so smooth, so soft beneath my fingers..._ His cock twitched, painful, swollen, swelling anew. ... _I love brown...no, that's not what that question means...I don't know..._ "I'm sorry," Castiel tried focusing on the concepts that _did_ make sense in his muddled thoughts. "I'm sorry, sir. I came...maybe?"

"Color!" The word was snapped out, a command that Castiel couldn't resist even as he couldn't assign meaning to it.

 _Oh, right, I'm supposed to say red if I'm not okay, green if I'm fine, yellow if..._ "I don't know."

"I need you to look at me." Metallicar's voice was controlling, firm, powerful, and Castiel latched on to it. _He needs me...needs me to...no, I can't look at the camera..._ Shame choked at him and he moaned pitifully, apologetically. _I failed. How can I face you, knowing I failed?_ "Thursday, you've got to trust me. Open your eyes." _How does he know my eyes are closed?_ "Didn't I promise I'd take care of you? _Look at me._ " With difficulty, Castiel forced his eyes open. The dim light of the room flared like the sun, searing through his mind. His head was slumped limply against the top of the office chair, gaze towards the ceiling. Tremors yet shook through his body; a particularly strong one roiled his stomach, nearly left him retching on the floor, and cooling liquid creep slowly down his stomach. Lifting his head proved nearly impossible but he managed it, caught view of the lines of come streaked over his chest from pubes to abs. Tearing his guilty stare away, he scanned up to the computer screen. His eyes first caught his own image, projected in one corner of the screen, showing his crotch, his heaving chest, his shaking hands and trembling thighs, but the video chat window showing Metallicar...

Metallicar didn't look much like Castiel had imagined. His features were chiseled but more delicate than Castiel had imagined, wide eyes brilliant green, eyelashes long, lips full and pink and plush. There was sweat on Metallicar's forehead and concern tightened his brow and eyes. "Sir...?"

"Are you looking at me?" insisted Metallicar.

"You're beautiful, sir," Castiel breathed.

" _Yes_ or _no_ , Thursday!"

"Yes, sir." The simple concepts were a Godsend and Castiel clung to every word from Metallicar, staring at his lips as Castiel awaited the next order that gave a semblance of control to his shattered thoughts.

"I am not angry," Metallicar said firmly. _His teeth are so white, his tongue, the way his lips move as he talks, I want him to kiss me, I want to fall into those eyes..._ "I _am not_ angry with you. Alright?" Tension unwound from Castiel's chest and he gasped in a deep breath. He hadn't even realized he was scarce breathing until he got a euphoric burst of oxygen. His head spun. "I've been doing this a long time and I've _never_ seen anything...I've never seen _anyone_ like you. I know I've pushed you hard today – harder than I meant to, honestly – and I couldn't be more proud. What you just gave me...I don't even have the words."

"I came without permission," Castiel shook his head and immediately regretted it. "It's nothing to be proud of..."

"Why did you come?" Castiel grimaced and held his silence. " _Answer me_."

Humiliation brought its own strange kind of control and Castiel finally began to calm under the wash of embarrassment triggered by confessing why he'd failed. "You said...you said that toy was me, sir. I was imagining...I mean..." He took a troubled breath and tried again. "It felt so good, sir." Damn, he sounded crazy when he put it that way. "Being inside you felt – would feel – so good."

"Correct me if I'm wrong – what you're saying is that watching me use the dildo caused you to imagine fucking me so vividly that you came untouched. Correct?"

"Yes, sir," Castiel mumbled, mortified.

"I came watching you," said Metallicar bluntly. Castiel's thoughts went from cluttered and scattered to silent and peaceful instantly.

"Sir?"

"When I realized the effect I'd had on you – throughout the day and now – I came," Metallicar repeated. A hand adjusted the camera and showed Castiel the dark, wet streaks down the denim of Metallicar's scruffy jeans. "Untouched, with hardly a thurst. That's never happened to me before."

"You're truly not angry with me, sir?"

"Thursday, I will reassure you _one more time_ , and then I _will_ grow angry if you persist in not trusting me," said Metallicar. Castiel started to speak, but Metallicar overrode him. "You've seen my photography. I do this professionally – photograph people in erotic situations – my own subs, other doms with their their subs, models willing to submit for pay – I thought I'd seen it all. Thursday, what I just saw you do is the single hottest thing I've _ever_ witnessed."

Protestations and objections sprang to Castiel's lips but he held them back, relaxing into trust, relaxing into the quiet in his mind. "Thank you, sir."

"What's your color, Thursday?"

"Yellow, sir."

"Good boy." The praise was the last essential thing Castiel needed; he slowly blew out a soothing breath. "Do you want to continue?"

"Continue, sir?"

The camera panned again. Metallicar was hard again. Castiel's cock twitched with interest; memories of the day's teasing flooded him and his blood surged, his length growing hard despite the lingering pain of long self-denial.

"Yes, sir," said Castiel, feeling wonderfully in control once more. "I would like to continue."

"Fuckin' _great_ ," breathed Metallicar. "You may touch yourself now, wherever you'd like, as much as you like, as long as I can see you doing so. And I expect to hear you."

"Yes, sir."

The mattress squeaked, a strangely distant noise, as Metallicar got back on his knees. One hand fumbled across the mattress until the gorgeous man found his discarded dildo – his discarded embodiment of Castiel's cock – and rubbed it over his hole. Castiel didn't bother restraining his groan; he was fully hard and ready to go again. Metallicar moaned too and collapsed forward, his shoulders flush with the bedding, both hands behind him cupping the base of the toy. He didn't bother hiding his face; he positioned himself in a way that made it obvious he was staring back at the screen, eyes fixed on the camera showing Castiel. Castiel panted as he watched the man gradually sink the dildo into his body, watched the pleasure evident on Metallicar's features. The first couple strokes Metallicar were slow, experimental, and Castiel felt each like a punch to his gut. Cupping his length, he used his hand to mimicked Metallicar's movements and watched mesmerized: the irresistable press of the dildo in and out of Metallicar's spread hole, the knotting of the muscles of Metallicar's arms as he worked, the effortless way Metallicar's hips rolled back even as he pushed the silicon cock deep into himself. A groan punched out of Metallicar each time the toy passed over his prostate and Castiel echoed his groans, imagining that his damp, sweat and pre-come slickened hand was Metallicar's lubricated asshole.

"Such a fuckin' _good boy_ for me, aren't you?" Metallicar gasped out, thrusting into himself harder. "Gonna ride you so hard, gonna ride you til you scream for it, gonna ride you til I come – don't you _dare_ come until I tell you."

"Oh...oh, Christ, thank you, sir, thank you – feels good," Castiel moaned. Metallicar pushed into himself hard enough that his arms to slap on the skin of his ass and Castiel imitated, hips rutting up from the chair as he thrust into his hand.

"Tell me – tell me how it feels," commanded Metallicar.

"So hot." It was getting harder to keep his eyes on the screen. Everything else in the world ceased to exist, there was only the video of his perfect dom, his perfect lover. There was only the need to obey, the delight that obeying brought. "Slick and so open for me, sir, so loose, it's...it's _great_." He wasn't aware of the hotel room, hardly aware that he was watching a monitor and a video of someone unknown distance away. "Been so long..." If he reached out his hand, he'd be able to touch that firm flesh. Metallicar was so close to him, all around him. "Want you...want to fill you...want to touch you..." If only Metallicar said he could, Castiel would reach out and touch, but without permission...

"Good, so good for me," whispered Metallicar, and then there were no more words. Metallicar thrust into himself with increasing aggression, grunting and groaning, muscles clenching noticeably around the toy he embedded within himself over and over again. Castiel's imagination filled in every detail his hand couldn't replicate until he was a moaning, writhing mess, barely holding himself back from coming. He pictured himself, hands on those taut hips, cock buried deep in that ass that clenched around him. It would grow so tight when Metallicar came; Castiel would feel such a rush in those agonizing moments while he waited for permission to fill Metallicar with his come. His hips bucked up from the chair as he slouched lower and lower in it, hips meeting his own hand at every stroke. After the day they'd spent, after his first climax, after their conversation, he was high on the euphoria of letting go. _Earned this...I'm allowed to have this...I'm allowed to have_ him _, how is that even possible, he's spectacular...But it's up to him, and he said I could, he said we could share this..._

"Metal...Metalli..."

"Dean."

Castiel's euphoria threatened to _drown_ him. This was what trust felt like, this was what it felt like to have a dom who believed in him. There was no feeling like it in the world, Castiel had _never_ felt anything comparable. "Dean?"

"Louder, Thursday." There was a wicked grin on Dean's face, his hands not slowing, his body still working, _God, so fucking beautiful_. "No one else was smart enough to snatch you up, which means you're _mine_ now. You'll call your master by _name_...when I say you can..."

"Dean!"

"Fuck yeah," groaned Dean. Hitching his hips up, he thrust into himself at a new angle and groaned, dildo making a wet noise as he thrust it as deeply as he could. "Say it again."

" _Dean!_ " Castiel was mad with want, clinging to the edge of reason, so fucking _in love_ with how well they worked together, how well Dean read him, how kindly Dean treated him, how glorious it felt to be trusted. Dean had handed Castiel everything: his profession, his name, his face – he'd granted Castiel as much power as Castiel had given Dean when Castiel agreed to let his cock hang out for hours during the most important meeting of the year.

"Close, Thursday?"

" _Cas_ ," he moaned. "Please...please say it, oh, _fuck_ , _yes_ I'm close, I won't come until you say, but please..."

"Cas?" Dean said and Castiel nearly broke to hear himself named with so much desire, moaned to the smack of cock in his lover's ass. "It's that my boy's name?"

"Sir—! _Yes_ , sir..."

"Oh _yeah_ , Cas – lemme see that pretty cock of yours strain." Dean switched to using only one hand on the dildo, wrapped the other around his cock. Dean's grip was firm and hard; he twisted his wrist as he stroked himself. Pre-come leaked continually from Castiel but he waited, he could wait, he walked that fine line between surrendering himself completely and controlling himself completely, panted and moaned at the rapture of maintaining that balance. He saw the instant Dean came, watched his ass clench so hard around the dildo that he nearly forced it out, watched his hips buck into his grip as he streaked the mattress with white. Castiel cried out imagining it, squeezing hard with his hand to mimic the tight ring of muscles compressing around him, and he thrust into that tightness frantically.

"Dean, sir! _Please_!"

"What was that?" panted Dean, hovering on the bed, a line of sweat curling down his spine to pool at the small of his back as he withdrew the dildo from his ass. With a sob, Castiel stopped stroking himself. Dean's eyes widened, face flushed, and he smirked. "You beggin' for something, boy?"

"Yes, yes sir, please let me come, please let me fill you, I know you're done, I know...know you don't need to use me any longer but please, please, may I finish, may I come inside you?" Dean slipped a finger into his loose hole, lube leaking out, and Castiel moaned pitifully watching as Dean thrust the digit in and out. "Please, please, _please..._ "

"Come for me," whispered Dean. Castiel thrust into his hand hard and whined, so close, mind so full of pleasure, yet his climax was out of reach. _If only he was really here, if only he really..._ "My Cas – come on, fill me up, leave me dripping..." Dean smeared his free hand through the come on his bed, reached around and smeared it over his hole, adding a second finger to his dripping hole. "Better do it quick, before I change my mind." Dean's muscles clenched visibly around his fingers, and despite his assertive words he moaned beautifully, face going momentarily slack as he fingers his over-stimulated body. That sound was the last push Castiel needed and his bliss burst like a bomb through his thoughts, filled him with heat so intense he could scarce believe it, as he imagined the come dripping down Dean's crack was his release, that he forced that needy sound from Dean.

"Don't change your mind," Castiel panted, thrusting desperately into his hand, come shooting into the air. "I'll clean you up, I won't leave a mess, if you'll let me sir, please let me sir..." He'd lick up every drop of both their come, use his tongue in that loose hole to clean up the mess they'd made.

" _Fuck_ , Cas, _yeah_..."

" _Dean!_ "

"Good boy," Dean whispered. Beyond content, Castiel grinned, tears leaking from his eyes as his hand stilled save for a single finger toying with his foreskin, forcing another small dribble of come from his cock. Dean's eyes closed slowly, then he twisted around to face the camera, gave Castiel a dizzying smile, and Castiel slid low in his chair, panting, waves of pleasure bowling him over. _He can probably see my face right now..._

 _...I hope he likes what he sees..._

 _...I love what I see when I look at him_...

"I'm yours?" Castiel whispered uncertainly, grip going slack around his softening cock.

"What's your color, Cas?"

"Green," mumbled Castiel blissfully, smiling with contentment.

"May I end this scene?" Kindness and care radiated from Dean's expression. Had they truly only been doing this for the day? Had they truly only known each other a week? It seemed much longer.

 _Every time_ , whispered a warning thought. _This is what you do every time, you make it so much more than it is, so much more real than it is...he's heard your voice, seen your face, he could find you, he could..._

"Yes, sir."

"Cas, if you'll have me back, I'd love to do this again sometime," said Dean earnestly. His expression was so guileless, his enthusiasm so obvious, that Castiel's fears dissipated. "I only wish I was with you, to get you out of those clothes, get you cleaned up, tuck you into bed, touch every inch of that gorgeous body and trace out all the ways I could tie you up next time—" A moan interrupted him; Castiel's cock twitched and leaked thick white liquid. "You'd like that too, huh?"

"Very much, sir – Dean."

"Alright, we'll talk – figure out another good time and try another scene," Dean said. Castiel nodded agreement. "Since I'm not there to take care of you, I need you to do a few things for me. We talked about subdrop in our e-mails – but to reiterate: you've got my number. If you're crashing, you call me any time, okay?"

"I will, sir."

"Tonight, you're going to take a bath, clean up, and order room service – anything you want, as long as you eat. Check in with me before you go to bed and when you wake up in the morning. I don't care how late or early it is, just let me know that you're doing alright. Is that okay?"

"Yes."

"I'm not being too controlling for you?"

"It's fine, Dean," Castiel said sincerely. "I appreciate that you care. Generally speaking my past doms have felt that, since I agreed to the terms of our scenes, I agreed to deal with the consequences. I'm used to cleaning up afterwards."

"You're not convincing me you're okay alone," grunted Dean. "I trust you on this – but you gotta trust me, too, and speak up. I'm not like those other people. I agreed to the whole package – if you're gonna give up what I need, I'm going to make sure you get what you need."

Part of Castiel longed to explain all – that he'd been offered the equivalent before, that it was his own fault that he didn't get more aftercare. If Castiel were better at sorting out when he was in scene and when he wasn't, such things wouldn't have happened to him in the past; if he didn't lose himself so completely in servitude that he neglect himself, his doms _would_ have taken care of him, or so he thought. He'd never asked, so he'd never know now. Instead, he held silent. He was too suffused with pleasure to ruin the moment with unsolicited confessions. He was too happy basking in the memory of Dean's assertiveness during their scene, Dean's transformation to affectionate care afterwards. Castiel would have to do better about separating, that was on him, but he felt maybe if he went to Dean, if he really didn't feel okay, Dean would understand instead of growing angry with him. That was a nice feeling.

"Thank you," said Castiel.

"This was great, Cas," Dean smiled. "Until next time." He gave a sweet, awkward wave to the screen. Castiel waved back, and their connection went dead.

For long minutes, Castiel didn't try to move. Dean's orders echoed in his ears – rest, clean up, eat – and he would, truly, but first he needed to bask in satisfaction and care. It had been a _great_ day. He'd done everything asked of him and more, and through his submission he'd clearly satisfied Dean. Best of all, Dean trusted him. If Castiel went to Google, he could probably find out Dean's last name in minutes. The temptation was powerful and it was only with difficulty that he pushed it away.

 _I don't need to do that. Dean told me as much about himself as he did because he trusts me. I have to prove myself worthy of that trust. And I will, I will prove myself, as many times as he asks me to. Because I trust him, too._

 _It feels so good to have this again._

 _I can't wait for next time._

* * *

End note:

I hope you enjoyed! It's nice to be caught up on Writing Prompt Wednesday - especially since it's Wednesday again! New prompts will be out tonight, and hopefully I'll get the story done tonight or tomorrow. :) (Should be short this time...famous last words).

As to this story? I already know what happens next. I'd say odds are pretty good I'll be writing more of this 'verse, I have a handful of ideas without even trying. No promises *when* that will happen, but it probably will. I'll likely write them as separate stories in a series, rather than as additional chapters, so subscribe/favorite me as a user if you want to be sure you don't miss anything!

Have ideas for Writing Prompt Wednesday? Want to get involved? Just want to get to be friends? You should consider following me on Tumblr - my username is unforth-ninawaters.


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